


Stiltskin Family Bonding

by smartgirlsaremean



Series: Stiltskin Family Bonding [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hot Chocolate, Mostly funny stuff, Stiltskin Family Bonding, The Stiltskin boys hang out, These are just getting really emotional, Yay I wrote a chapter that didn't make me cry, i hope anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2018-10-09 13:11:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartgirlsaremean/pseuds/smartgirlsaremean
Summary: The Stiltskin boys bond in a variety of ways. Sometimes it goes well, other times...not so much.





	1. Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Zappy said: "...Tbh you could write these three having cocoa together at Grannies and I'd eat it up."
> 
> Here you go! I'll see about your other ideas as well!

_**June 2013** _

Rumplestiltskin eyed the mug in front of him dubiously. Across from him, Neal took an enthusiastic sip. Henry watched him, smiling widely, and Rumplestiltskin saw Neal hide a grimace behind the mug.

“Good, huh?” Henry said eagerly.

“Yeah, it’s...it’s great.”

“Come on, try it, Grandpa!” Henry turned shining eyes on his grandfather.

Oh, that look was truly unfair. He didn’t stand a chance and never would. Rumplestiltskin had always been fond of Henry, but since the revelation that the boy was his kin, the only offspring of his beloved Baelfire, the sorcerer would gladly walk through fire for him, and everyone knew it.

Rumplestiltskin lifted the mug to his lips and sipped, trying, like Neal, to hide his grimace. He enjoyed sweets in general, but the combination of chocolate, whipped cream, and cinnamon was cloying.

“So?” Henry prodded.

Nodding his head, his grandfather adopted what he hoped was a pleased expression.

Henry’s face fell. “You don’t like it?”

“No, no, I like it,” Rumplestiltskin said hastily. To prove it, he drank more deeply, fighting the urge to gag with every gulp. Neal watched, horrified amazement in every feature. “It’s, uh...very...very good,” the sorcerer said at last, showing Henry the empty mug.

Grinning triumphantly, Henry turned to his father. “Told you.”

“I can _not_ believe you just did that,” Neal said, gaping at his father. “You _hate_ hot chocolate.”

“What? No, I don’t!”

“You’re a tea drinker, always have been!” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did you turn it into tea when I wasn’t looking?”

“Of course not!”

“He drank the hot chocolate, Dad. Now pay up.” Henry held out his hand.

Grumbling, Neal fished out a twenty and slapped it into his son’s hand.

“Wait...you…” Rumplestiltskin looked from his son to his grandson in bewilderment. “You…”

“You can get your tea now. Thanks, Grandpa!” Henry waved the bill in the air and rushed from the diner towards the bookshop.

“Did we just get conned by an eleven-year-old?” Neal asked.

“We did indeed.”

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t quite help a proud smile. When he glanced across the booth, he saw that Neal was smiling too.


	2. Grandfather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon said: Stiltskin Family Bonding prompt: Neal and Henry notice that Rumplestiltskin watches them practicing sword fighting in the park.
> 
> Takes place during "Lacey."

_**September 2012** _

“Grandpa started teaching me a while ago, but he’s been pretty busy,” Henry said, swinging his sword at his side.

“You’re doing alright for a beginner,” Neal said. “Just remember to try to get to higher ground, and don’t leave yourself open for attacks.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t have to spend, like, a week polishing swords or something like I had to take care of the horse. That was really boring.”

“Swords are a little more straightforward than horses, that’s for sure.” Neal raised his sword. “You ready to go again?”

Henry mimicked his stance, then dropped his sword. “Grandpa’s here.”

“Huh?” Neal looked around, expecting to see the Prince, but he met his own father’s eyes instead. Rumplestiltskin stood not far away, a small dark silhouette against the stark white cannery building. Neal still wasn’t used to the little jolts he got in his gut when he saw the Dark One like this - the angular face and dark eyes of the poor spinner father he’d adored, cloaked in the immutable, terrifying power of dark magic. Although the scales and golden eyes had vanished, and he was back to walking with a limp instead of the imp’s quick strides, Rumplestiltskin still cut an imposing figure.

“Don’t worry about him,” Neal said, poking Henry with his blade. “Believe me, if he wants something, he’ll let us know.”

Henry shrugged and fell back into position, but the proper stance and footwork fell away as they started to enjoy themselves, and soon they were simply chasing each other around the small park, leaping over tables and dodging and ducking and laughing and shouting. All the while, Neal was aware of his father lurking, watching, pondering. He could practically hear the cogs turning in his head, even from this distance.

How had the Dark One reacted to discovering that he was a grandfather? He knew how his father would have reacted, the poor spinner overflowing with love and kindness. Rumplestiltskin would have wept, his hands firm and gentle as he cradled a newborn grandson, his words tender and his voice soft, singing the lullabies Neal had sung to himself during those long harrowing nights in Neverland to keep fear and despair at bay. As the boy grew, Rumplestiltskin would have spent every spare coin he had to keep him happy and safe, gone hungry himself if there wasn’t enough food, slept on the floor by the fire to ensure a good night’s sleep for the child. He would have saved the softest wool and used it to spin his finest thread, and instead of selling it would have kept it to create blankets and nightgowns and tunics almost as fine as the ones sold at market.

No heir to a kingdom could ever have been more loved or cherished than that grandson of a small, meek, destitute spinner. Neal wondered how much of his father was still there under the darkness. He remembered listening to the Dark One use what could easily have been his dying breaths to reassure a woman - he had yet to meet Belle, whoever she was - of her own heroism and importance. Maybe his father was still in there, somewhere, waiting for the opportunity to be a father and a grandfather, a part of a family.

He doubted it, but maybe.

Henry jabbed him in the stomach and Neal blinked, realizing that his eyes had gone misty. “Gotcha!” Henry yelled, running off. Neal chased him, glancing back at where his father had stood, but now he was gone.

For a moment, Neal was almost disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that got a little angstier than I was expecting.


	3. Woven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chipped mug prompted: I have a prompt if you'll have it? : Neal discovers that Rumple had spun and woven a blanket for Henry (like a bigger version the one Bae had) the moment he found out he was a grandfather...but hs been afraid to give it to him. [of course this makes Neal all emotional]

_**September 2012** _

Grandfather.

Grandfather.

Grandfather.

The word pounded in his head like the steady beat of a drum. With Cora gone and his shop empty Rumplestiltskin had the time and space and quiet to think, and that was all he could really focus on.

Grandfather. He was a _grandfather_.

His beautiful, beloved Baelfire had had a son, unintentionally and unknowingly, and how in the world he had never had even the slightest inkling...well, the Land Without Magic worked in strange ways, and his Sight wasn’t always reliable here. And what a grandson for the Dark One, eh? Who would ever have guessed that the daughter of true love and the son of the darkest power in the Realms would produce this young princeling? A child made up of love and wits and cunning and compassion, the perfect blend, he could now see, of the two families - all of their attributes and none of their weaknesses.

Rumplestiltskin’s hands shook as he sat at his long-neglected spinning wheel. Not too much gold thread - the royals would no doubt balk at a gift obviously magic-made, their distrust of his magic only ever subsiding reluctantly when they could no longer do without it. When the threads were complete he looked at them blankly for a moment. He had no loom in this place, and anyway weaving was hell on his ankle. With a sigh he waved one hand and the blanket formed, snow white threads interspersed with golden ones, the boy’s name embroidered in black on one corner, a small nod to the woman who had raised him and given him her own father’s name.

Black and white and gold, like Henry himself, a testament to his impressive lineage.

The boy was too old for an embroidered blanket from his grandfather, of course, and there was no telling if Rumplestiltskin would be allowed within twenty feet of his grandson. The blanket would no doubt sit uselessly in the shop forever. Rumplestiltskin folded it and placed it carefully in a trunk in the corner, caressing the material briefly before letting the lid fall.

* * *

  ** _October 2013_**

“Gods, Papa, don’t you ever get rid of anything?”

“No.”

Neal rolled his eyes and continued shifting things around.

“What are you looking for, Bae?”

“ _Neal_. I’m looking for a necklace. It’s Snow White’s, it belonged to her mother.”

“No, that necklace is _mine_. It was payment.”

“For what?”

“Wasting my time.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “You don’t need the necklace, and Snow wants to give it to Emma for her birthday.”

“If you can find it, she can have it, but no promises. I’m sure I don’t care about the bloody thing.” Rumplestiltskin said carelessly, but Neal hid a grin. He knew the old sorcerer was fond of Emma. He’d liked her before, but since she’d been revealed as the mother of his grandson Rumplestiltskin had been that tiny bit softer in his dealings with her. In fact, he’d bet a lot of money that the necklace was about to show up within his line of sight in three...two...one…

And there it was, draped over the arm of a candelabra Neal had already checked. Wordlessly he picked it up and turned around, dangling it in front of his father’s eyes. “Huh. Look what I found.”

“How fortunate.”

“Yeah.” Neal pocketed the locket and glanced around the shop. “Did _everything_ come here with you?”

“Not everything, no. Items of importance to me and others - the curse was written that way. Even things that appear to be useless - the dwarves’ steins, for example, or that necklace - might have some significance in the future.”

Neal nodded, looking around the back room once more. The shop’s bell chimed and Rumplestiltskin got to his feet with a roll of his eyes. “Excuse me.”

When he’d disappeared behind the curtain, Neal looked around the room again with interest. Though every flat surface was covered with _things_ \- priceless and useless, impressive and nondescript - a trunk shoved near the back of the room got his attention. The sneak-thief of old reared up in his head and he slipped over, prepared to pick the lock, but that wasn’t necessary. He pushed the lid up and froze.

There were only three things in the trunk. One was a golden ball dress he’d never seen before. Next to it was a shawl he’d used as a boy in the Enchanted Forest, the one he’d seen his father wearing when they’d found him in New York. Finally, tucked into the farthest corner was a blanket, pure white but shimmering with golden strands. “Henry” was embroidered on one corner in black.

His hands trembling, Neal reached out and traced the script with his fingers. He knew Rumplestiltskin’s handiwork when he saw it; memories of his father spinning and dying and weaving and sewing flooded his brain, and for a moment he was back in the simple house they’d called home, falling asleep to the whir of the wheel, his father’s profile outlined against the glow of the fire.

The shop’s bell rang out again and Neal straightened, closing the lid of the trunk softly and wiping away the tears that had pooled in his eyes. He stared hard at a collection of corkscrews displayed in a box and listened to his father’s steady footsteps as he returned to the back room.

“Found everything you need?” Rumplestiltskin asked.

“Yeah, thanks.” Neal shoved his hands in his pockets. “Uh...Emma and I were gonna take Henry for burgers, if you wanna come.”

His father blinked. “I...I’ve already eaten, son. Belle brought sandwiches.”

“Oh. Tomorrow, maybe?”

“S-sure. Let me know when.”

“Kay.” He thought about hugging him, but Rumplestiltskin already looked worried, so he decided to leave that for another day. “Tell Belle hi for me.”

His father nodded, still looking baffled, and Neal hurried from the shop, his mind whirling.


	4. Gideon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V_eritas prompted: These are lovely. I adore these three bonding! As for prompts ... perhaps Henry and Neal meeting Gideon, the newest Stiltskin boy...?

_**March 2014** _

Henry eyed his grandfather with concern. Rumplestiltskin sat stock-still in the plastic chair, his face etched with lines of worry, his fingers white-knuckled where they gripped his cane. Some stupid news channel was playing on the TV in the corner, and there weren’t even any good magazines sitting around, or Henry could have distracted himself. As it was, he had to watch the most powerful wizard in the world fret himself into a panic over his pregnant wife.

If there were some kind of world record for “most twisted family tree,” Henry knew he’d win hands down. His grandparents and his mom were the same age. His adopted mother was also his step-great-grandmother, and she had kind of a _thing_ for his mom, who happened to be her step-granddaughter. (She tried not to let him know, but he was twelve, not stupid. Besides, he was pretty sure his mom was still hung up on his dad.) Things on his father’s side weren’t quite as tangled, but just as weird. His grandfather was a centuries-old sorcerer and the son of Peter Pan. Rumpletstiltskin’s wife was at least two hundred and fifty years younger than her husband and had no magic at all but somehow managed to boss him around just fine. Just a few months ago he’d gotten a baby uncle and in a minute - or an hour - or a couple of hours - he was going to have another baby uncle.

Grandpa Charming was right. Thanksgiving dinners were about to get _really_ awkward.

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Henry said eventually when he couldn’t stand the sound of the yapping people on the TV for one more second.

Rumplestiltskin met his eyes. “Hm?”

“Grandma Belle. She’s strong and brave, y’know? She’ll be okay.”

Chuckling, Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “I don’t know if she wants to be called Grandma. Just Belle ought to be fine.”

Henry nodded. “So...did you guys pick out a name?”

“We have a few options. Belle wants to meet him before she decides on his name.” Rumplestiltskin glanced at the big swinging doors Belle had disappeared through.

“I’m serious about her being okay,” Henry said. “Things are different here, y’know? Doctors and medicine and...even if something went wrong...and I’m not saying it will, cause it won’t...but even if it did, she’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry so much.”

“Old habits, I suppose,” his grandfather sighed, turning his cane in his hands.

“Like carrying that cane around even though you can walk just fine without it?”

“Yeah, exactly.” He tapped the cane against the floor. “It’s a reminder of who I was. Who I never want to be again.”

“I dunno,” Henry frowned. “I mean, sure, you shouldn’t go around cursing people or turning them into snails, but the old you wasn’t all bad. And it’s not like you were a terrible person when you were a spinner, either.”

Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows. “How would you know that?”

“Dad tells me things.”

“Does he?”

“Yeah. From when he was a kid.” Henry leaned back in his chair. “It wasn’t your fault people were so mean to you. You took care of him and helped him grow up when his mom left. That’s not something a bad person would do, is it?”

When his grandfather didn’t answer, Henry looked up and then down again very quickly. Rumplestiltskin’s eyes were kind of shiny, and he didn’t know what to do. Man, someone should have warned him about how _sappy_ the Stiltskin men were. His dad was like that too, sometimes. His moms didn’t cry nearly as much.

“Here, Papa. Tea.” Neal appeared with two steaming styrofoam cups, and Rumplestiltskin took one with a nod of thanks. “You guys doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Henry said. “Grandpa was telling me about the names he and Belle picked out.”

Neal looked at his father, whose eyes were still slightly misty. “Uh-huh. So what are they?”

The big swinging doors opened and Dr. Whale looked out. “Um, excuse me, Mr. - uh - Rumple - uh…” He huffed and waved a hand. “If you wanted to be in the room for the birth, we need to get you suited up.”

Rumplestiltskin went white.

“Your big moment, Pops,” Neal said softly, taking the tea out of his father’s hand and helping him stand. “You can do this. Belle’s waiting.”

“Right,” Rumplestiltskin muttered. “Right. Belle’s waiting.”

Neal winked at Henry behind Rumplestiltskin’s back as, with an expression equal parts awe and terror, the father-to-be followed the doctor to the delivery room.

* * *

Dr. Whale wished he were allowed to take pictures in the delivery room, because a photo of the feared Dark One pale as a ghost, trussed up in scrubs, and clutching his panting wife’s hand like a lifeline would probably have made him a fortune. Belle had been screaming a moment before, but she was almost finished, and when it was time for the final push, she looked up into her husband’s eyes and seemed to draw fresh strength.

The squall of a newborn ripped through the air, and Belle collapsed against the back of the chair, her smile blindingly bright. Tears coursed down Rumplestiltskin’s cheeks as he watched his son being gently wiped down, swaddled in a blanket, and then placed in his wife’s arms. Belle stroked one finger over the baby’s cheek and Rumplestiltskin bent to place a kiss to the crown of his son’s head. Embarrassed, Dr. Whale turned away with an inexplicable lump in his throat. Dark One or not, he’d never seen a man look so completely conquered at the sight of his child.

Maybe Belle's love and faith in the old warlock wasn't as strange as everyone thought.

* * *

“When will we get to see him?” Henry asked for what was probably the millionth time. At least, it felt that way to Neal.

“When Dr. Whale says we can,” Neal said patiently for at least the hundred thousandth time.

“But what’s taking so long?”

“You heard the doctor, Henry. The baby has to have a bath, and Belle probably wants to at least comb her hair or something, and she has to be moved into a new room. There’s a lot for them to do. Besides...they probably want a little alone time, at least at first. He’s their new baby, y’know?”

“I guess,” Henry sighed, flopping back into his chair.

A tornado of blond hair and red leather whipped through the waiting room just then and skidded to a stop in front of Neal. “Hey! I got here as soon as I could. Everything okay?”

Neal smiled at Emma. “Yeah, the doc said everything went great. Healthy baby boy. Twenty-one inches, seven pounds twelve ounces.”

“Twenty-one inches? Holy crap, he’s a string bean,” Emma said. “How in the world did your dad and step-mom make a baby that long?”

“Uh. The usual way. I guess.” Not that that was something he really wanted to think about.

“Have you been in to see him yet?”

“No,” Henry groaned, stretching the word out for several syllables. Emma grinned and ruffled his hair.

“Impatient to meet your new uncle?”

“That’ll be fun to explain when he gets older,” Neal said.

“Yeah, he and Uncle Graham are probably gonna have a lot of questions when they get older.”

As always, Emma’s eyes softened when her baby brother was mentioned. Graham Nolan had been named for the huntsman who’d spared Snow’s life and freed Charming from Regina’s dungeon. He’d also been one of Emma’s first friends in Storybrooke, and Neal knew from Henry that she’d been devastated when he died. How he died was still something of a mystery, though Neal had his suspicions, which he’d never voice out loud unless forced.

They waited a while longer, the two of them telling stories to distract Henry, and then Dr. Whale appeared again and invited them to follow him back to Belle’s room.

“Why didn’t Papa come get us?” Neal asked.

Whale smirked. “He’s engaged in a bit of a...uh...disagreement, at the moment.”

“Disagreement?”

They were just outside the room, and they could all hear Belle, and though her words were stern, she sounded as if she was holding back laughter. “Rumple, you’ve held him for an hour. I really think it’s my turn now.”

“He’s just gone to sleep, sweetheart. I don’t want to disturb him. What if he wakes?”

“He’ll live, and besides you need to eat something.”

“I ate at lunch.”

“Which was _six hours ago_. Darling, please…”

There were a few seconds of silence, and then Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Fine. Very judicious use of _the face_ , by the way.”

“Thank you. And you know the rules. You used _your_ face already today, so you’re not allowed to use it again until tomorrow.”

“Tyrant,” the sorcerer muttered, but when Neal felt composed enough to walk in the room, his father’s face was suffused with so much love and tenderness that he might have imagined that last bit. Rumplestiltskin looked up from watching his new son sleeping and smiled. “Neal.”

“Hey, Papa. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Neal walked to Belle’s side to get a better look at his baby brother.

 _Baby brother_. Wow, that would take some getting used to.

“Hey, little guy,” he said softly. The baby snuffled in his sleep and pressed one fist to his cheek.

“What’s his name?” Henry asked softly from Belle’s other side.

“Gideon,” Rumplestiltskin replied.

“Gideon Gold,” Henry said. “That sounds awesome. Where’d you get it?”

“Where else? From your grandmother’s favorite book.”

“ _Step-_ grandmother, thank you,” Belle said with a smile. She looked up and caught Neal’s gaze, and he realized he had tears in his eyes. “Would you like to hold him, Neal?”

“Oh, uh...I don’t...I’ve never…”

“Sit here, son,” his father said, rising from his chair. “I’ll hand him to you.”

Before he knew what was happening, Neal was sitting in the chair next to Belle’s bed while baby Gideon was placed gently in the crook of his arm. He weighed next to nothing, but Neal sat like a statue, terrified of doing something wrong. After a minute Gideon gave a tiny grunt and opened his eyes, dark blue meeting startled brown, and Neal smiled.

“Hey, there, little bro,” he said softly. “How do you like being on the outside so far?”

The baby hiccuped.

“Yeah, it’s not so bad. A little crazy sometimes. But you’ve got me and your mom and your dad and your nephew, and we’ll make sure you get through it alright, okay?”

Sighing, Gideon closed his eyes again, and Neal looked up to see that everyone was staring at him, and all of them, except for Henry, had tears in their eyes.

“Hey, Henry?” Emma said, standing. “Let’s go see if we can rustle up some food for everybody, okay?”

“But I wanna hold Uncle Gideon!”

Rumplestiltskin made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a cross between a laugh and a sob.

“You can hold him when we get back. Let’s go.”

She herded her son out the door, pausing to look back at Neal and give him an encouraging smile. He smiled back, trying to let her know that she didn’t need to worry about him. He was with his family, and everything was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, because in this verse Neal is still alive, I figured I would change Neal Nolan's name to Graham. I mean, I LOVE that his name is Neal in the show, but I thought Graham deserved a shout-out too. So, ladies and gents, for the purposes of this story/drabble collection/thing, I give you Graham Nolan.


	5. Barbecue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hundred million years ago, Zappy prompted: I know we saw Rumple's nightmare about Henry's birthday party in show, but what about in this? Oorrr Halloween! I can see the Charming Clan host barbecues?
> 
> So this answers the first and last of those ideas!
> 
> (I didn't even think to look up when Henry's birthday was, so I went with August. Because why the hell not.)

_**August 2014** _

“This is a terrible idea,” Rumplestiltskin muttered as the Cadillac pulled up outside the white farmhouse the Charmings called home.

“No, it’s just what everyone needs,” Belle said beside him. “We’re all family, and Henry deserves to have everyone at least try to get along.”

“If they say anything to upset you, anything at all, we’re leaving.” He glanced uneasily behind them at their son, who was entertaining himself by waving his hands in front of his face.

“What could they possibly say?” she asked, amusement creeping into her voice.

Rumplestiltskin turned red and averted his gaze, and Belle reached out to squeeze his hand on the steering wheel.

“Rumple, I’ll be fine, and so will you. It’s not like you have to be here with people you hate. You like David and Emma, and I know Snow isn’t your favorite person, but I can keep her occupied, okay?”

“I don’t know that I _like_ the shepherd,” Rumple protested, switching off the engine. “He simply doesn’t irritate me as much as most other people do.”

Smirking, Belle leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make you a deal.”

His eyes lit up at that and his mouth quirked, a hint of the imp shining in his expression. “Oh? What deal could you possibly offer me, sweetheart?”

“Be pleasant to everyone for the duration of the party, and I’ll make this worth your while when we get home.”

He swallowed. “Worth my while? But…”

“I’ve already asked Granny if she wouldn’t mind watching Gideon tonight. I thought you might need some persuasion, and I’ve been doing a little research.”

“....Ah. What...what sort of research?”

“I guess you’ll have to be pleasant to find out,” she said with a saucy smile. “Come on, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can go home.”

Belle got out of the car and carefully removed Gideon from his car seat, Rumplestiltskin lifting out the bag they carried everywhere, but they both froze at the sound of an extremely unwelcome voice.

“Well, if it isn’t the old crocodile.”

Every muscle in his body tensed, and Rumplestiltskin felt magic begin to burn at his fingertips.

“Oh, damn,” Belle muttered.

“What in the seven hells are you doing here?” Rumplestiltskin growled. One of his arms wound around Belle and pulled her and their son in close to his side.

“I was invited, mate. You?”

“Well, I am Henry’s grandfather,” the sorcerer said wryly, “and this is, after all, a _family_ affair.”

“Killian!” Neal suddenly appeared on the porch. “Hey, can you come in and help David with the canopy? He doesn’t know how to tie knots as well as you do.”

Jones smirked and tilted his head at Belle, who frowned at him. “‘Course. Be right there.”

“Sorry, guys,” Neal said as soon as Jones had ambled around to the back of the house. “He saw Snow and David buying supplies at the store and kind of - _wormed_ an invitation out of them. You know them, they can’t say no to a ‘reformed villain’.”

“I don’t suppose his pretty face helps him at all,” Rumple said sourly.

Neal pressed one hand to his heart, his eyes huge with disbelief. “The _royals_ ? Taken in by _charm_ and _blue eyes_? Say it ain’t so.”

“Neal, will you please get back out here?” Emma poked her head around the corner of the house. “Oh! Hi, guys. Come on back. Henry can’t wait to see you.”

Rumplestiltskin stared at her and Belle poked him. “See? Told you. You’ll be fine.”

“Just don’t let him near the grill,” Neal teased.

Emma scoffed. “Please, I wouldn’t put him in charge of the birthday candles.”

Rumplestiltskin tried his best to keep his smirk under control as he bent to take the brightly wrapped box out of the back seat. Belle winked at him as she adjusted Gideon in her arms, and they followed Neal and Emma into the backyard, where David and Hook were completing construction of a large white tent and Snow was placing Graham in an outdoor playpen. Neal headed for the large gas grill set up by the picnic tables and Emma called for Henry who was tossing sticks for Pongo and chatting with Grace, to come greet his guests.

“You guys came!” Henry was taller than Belle now, his dark hair beginning to wave in much the same way Bae’s had at that age, and his voice was beginning to crack now and then.

“Happy birthday, Henry,” Belle said warmly, pulling him into a one-armed hug. Henry hugged her back and thanked her, and then bent close to his baby uncle.

“Hi, Uncle Gideon. You’re getting big.”

Gideon smiled and waved his arms.

Henry shook one of the baby’s hands solemnly and then looked up at his grandfather. “Hi, Grandpa.”

“Many happy returns, m’boy,” Rumplestiltskin said gruffly. He wished he had the courage to hug the lad himself. It wasn’t as if Henry hadn’t hugged him before, but Rumplestiltskin had never initiated contact, and he wasn’t about to start now. Instead, he held out their gift and Henry took it.

“Cool. Thanks. I’m gonna put it with the others, okay?” He walked off and Rumplestiltskin felt Belle gently bump his arm with her shoulder.

“You’re doing great so far,” she murmured.

“I haven’t had to talk to anyone insufferable yet,” he muttered back.

“Belle! Mr. Gold! We’re so glad you could make it!” As if on cue, Snow White fluttered up to them, her smile wide and her eyes bright. “Hello, Gideon,” she cooed. “We have a playpen set up if you’d like to visit with Graham.”

“Maybe in a little while,” Belle said. Graham was now fourteen months old - Rumplestiltskin was never quite sure why babies’ ages were counted in months even after the one-year mark - and a very inquisitive little fellow who adored the younger baby. Rumplestiltskin considered this a mark of the toddler’s excellent taste. Even now, Graham was standing in his pack-n-play and grinning over at them, his chubby fist waving.

“May I hold Gideon, Mrs. Gold?” Jefferson’s daughter appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and Belle smiled at her.

“Why don’t we find somewhere to sit and we’ll see if he’s in the mood to socialize,” she said gently. With a questioning smile at her husband, which he answered with a nod, she followed Grace to the tables under the canopy and settled into a chair, where she was promptly surrounded by Grace, Gretel, and three more of the girls from Henry’s class. Rumplestiltskin watched her just long enough to be sure she was comfortable before walking slowly toward his older son, who was turning hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill.

“How’s business?” Neal asked.

“Not bad, now that my customers have stopped fearing death every time they come in.”

“I guess that’s not at all due to the fact that half the time you’re carrying Gid around in a baby sling.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “I could still turn them all into snails, and they all know it.”

Neal snorted. “Face it, Pops. You’re a tamed Dark One and you love it.”

Studying his wife from afar, the sorcerer allowed himself a small smile. “Perhaps.” His good mood was short lived, as a moment later Hook walked up and clapped a hand on Neal’s shoulder.

“A shame you’re shackled in the kitchen, so to speak,” Hook said, a meaningful gleam in his eye. “Leaves your lovely lady somewhat unprotected.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Unprotected from what?”

“From my devilish good looks and charm, obviously.” Patting Neal’s shoulder a few times as if in commiseration, he smiled. “I’ll woo her away eventually.”

“You’ve been saying stuff like that off and on for over a year,” Neal said patiently, moving the hot dogs to a plate. “You’ve invited her for drinks and dinner and dancing and sailing. Face it, Hook. She’s with me now, and she doesn’t want you.”

“She hasn’t given me a proper chance.”

“She doesn’t have to. Look,” Neal placed the burgers on another plate and studied Hook with compassion, “I get it. Emma’s beautiful and smart and tough and she didn’t fall all over you when you smiled at her. It sucks to have someone you want turn you down. But seriously, man. Let it go.”

Somehow Rumplestiltskin hadn’t known that the pirate still carried a torch for Emma Swan; whether his feelings were genuine or he was simply being stubborn he supposed was anyone’s guess. Neal’s simple assertion that he and Emma were together, however, took him completely by surprise.

“Is that true, Bae?” he asked as Hook sauntered away.

“Is what true?”

“You and Ms. Swan?”

“Oh.” Neal turned red and looked away. “Yeah. We weren’t hiding it or anything. Snow and David and Regina know, and I was going to tell you later. It’s...we’re together again.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Henry’s pretty thrilled.” Neal picked up the plates of food and walked toward the tables. “Come and get it!” he shouted, and there was a small stampede as the party guests hurried over.

Rumplestiltskin took Gideon from Belle’s arms and carried him to the pack-n-play. Young Graham grinned up at him.

“Hi!” he chirped. “Baby!”

“Yes, Gideon’s here,” Rumplestiltskin said, placing his son carefully on the mat. “Be gentle, little princeling.” Taking a seat in one of the nearby chairs, he watched as Graham sat next to Gideon and patted the younger boy on the chest.

“Baby,” he said softly. “Baby.” Gideon gurgled and kicked his feet.

“They’re gonna be best friends when they get older.”

Rumplestiltskin looked up to see that David had joined him, holding out a plate of food. The sorcerer took it with a nod of thanks, and David sat in the other chair. For a few blessed moments, Rumplestiltskin thought the shepherd would sit in silence, but he should have known better.

“Can you believe we made it this far?” he asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Look at us.” David waved his fork between them and then gestured at the tables full of people with it. “We were commoners. I was staring down a life of poverty with no chance of true love. You were about to lose your son to war. Now here we are - shepherds and wizards and princesses and pirates and queens - at peace. Breaking bread with people who were once our enemies.” He grinned down at their sons; Graham was trying to introduce Gideon to peek-a-boo. “Our kids are gonna grow up together, forge new bonds, make new alliances. There aren’t any heroes or villains anymore. We’re just...us.”

Something like warmth blossomed in Rumplestiltskin’s chest. Acceptance had never been so explicitly offered, even after his marriage to Belle. David said nothing more, allowing a comfortable silence to fall over them as the party guests ate and drank and laughed. At last, the candles were blown out, the cake was cut, and it was time for Henry to open his gifts. Everyone stood around, Belle with Gideon in her arms again, as he worked through the pile.

There were various trinkets and books and cards from his schoolmates. From Regina he received a thick leather journal and a fountain pen.

“Wow,” Henry breathed, turning the pen over in his hands. “This is awesome.”

“I thought it might be time for you to write some stories of your own,” Regina said, her eyes grave.

Henry hugged her tightly, allowing her to clutch him to her just a little longer.

From the Charmings he received a new saddle for his horse, from Neal and Emma a beautifully woven dreamcatcher and a new game for his Xbox. Hook appeared to have forgotten a gift. When Henry lifted the lid of the box from Rumplestiltskin and Belle, his eyes widened.

“Whoa…” Carefully he removed the hand-woven tapestry from the tissue paper and ran his fingers over it.

The background design was a large, heavy-limbed tree. Henry’s name was embroidered in gold in the center, and branching out away from it were slender golden strands that formed a web. The strands connected to other names, also embroidered in gold, so that his lineage was laid out for him to see, beginning with his great-grandparents on both sides and including everyone up to the current generation.

“This is amazing,” Henry breathed. “Is it…?”

“Magic? Yes.” Rumplestiltskin leaned forward and traced the line that ran from Henry’s name to Baelfire’s. “Each birth, marriage, and death will be recorded. The tapestry itself will grow to accommodate new generations when necessary.”

“Look, Mom, you’re on here too,” Henry said to Regina, pointing out where her name was connected to both Snow’s and his own.

“I am?” Regina raised startled eyes to Rumplestiltskin’s.

“Of course you are,” Emma said firmly. “You took him in when he needed a home. You raised him for ten years. You’re his _mother_ , Regina. Why wouldn’t you be there?”

Regina looked a little lost, but she smiled shakily.

“Uh...hey, Grandpa?” Henry sounded confused.

“Yes?”

“There’s...there’s another line here by Mom and Dad, but there’s no name. What does that mean?”

“What?” Rumplestiltskin leaned over him and scrutinized the tapestry, then chuckled. “Well, well. It seems congratulations are in order.”

“Huh?”

The sorcerer straightened and grinned at his son. “It would appear I’m to have another grandchild.”


	6. Family Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Tumblr anon prompted: Stiltskin Family Bonding: Does Neal have a job now?

_**August 2014** _

“I hate this,” Neal grumbled, wrestling with his tie.

Emma leaned against the bathroom door and smirked at him around her toothbrush. “I think you look hot. In a stuffy businessman kind of way.”

“He never cared about this stuff before.”

“Really. Rumplestiltskin. The man of leather and dragonhide and bright silk shirts.” Neal quirked an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. “Henry’s book is illustrated, and Mom and Regina like to tell stories.”

“Well, there wasn’t a whole lot of leather and silk when I was growing up.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Neal tugged on the bottom of the jacket and sighed. “I mean, I guess I get it. He wants to project a certain image. I just don’t know why I have to.”

“You want to sell priceless antiques in a hoodie and torn jeans?”

“You solve crime in skinny jeans and a red leather jacket,” Neal retorted. “I mean, not that I’m complaining.”

Emma rolled her eyes and went back into the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth. Glaring at his reflection one last time, Neal picked up the jacket lying at the end of the bed. “I have to go or I’m gonna be late. See ya for lunch?”

“Granny’s?”

“No, the _other_ diner in town.”

“Funny.”

Neal shrugged the jacket on and left, wondering when exactly he’d become so domesticated.

* * *

“Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to sweep.”

Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows at his oldest son, who was eyeing the broom with intense loathing. “Well, someone has to, and unfortunately my former maid now runs a rather successful daycare and has no interest in working for me again.”

Grumbling, Neal snatched up the broom.

“That was a quip, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin said, reaching out to take the broom from his hands. “Henry comes in and sweeps up about twice a week.”

“Oh.”

His father gave him a bemused smile. “Are you that desperate for a job that you’d sweep my shop?”

“I’ve got a kid on the way, Papa. I have to be...stable and stuff. I’ve never been a dad before, not like this - I mean, I love Henry, but I wasn’t around for the hard stuff, y’know? Diapers and midnight feedings and teething. How did you -” He broke off abruptly and ran a hand through his hair.

Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows.

“Did you freak out? When you realized you had a little human to take care of?”

Sighing, Rumplestiltskin looked down at a watch on his counter and traced a finger down the length of the chain. “The circumstances aren’t the same, Bae. In my case - your mother and I had hoped for a family - before I went away to war, at least. You were wished for...prayed for...all I ever wanted out of life. I... _freaked out_ , as you say...when I thought I was doomed to leave you fatherless, but from the moment Milah placed you in my arms you were the center of my world.”

“You were like that with Gideon, too,” Neal smiled. His father had been captivated by his younger brother, to the point that Belle had had to draw up a schedule for holding and rocking the baby, or Rumplestiltskin might never have put the boy down.

“It doesn’t go away, that feeling,” Rumplestiltskin said, his eyes still fixed on the watch. “Your children will always be the center of your world. Even when you can no longer pick them up and soothe away every worry and care, you still wish you could.”

“Well...giving them a job and not making them scrub floors is a good substitute,” Neal muttered, poking a finger at the mobile hanging from the ceiling. He couldn’t see his father’s face very well, but he thought he saw a twitch around his mouth that might have been a smile.

“Start in the back,” Rumplestiltskin said at last. “Check my inventory list against what’s actually there. When you’ve finished that, we’ll inventory the front.”

“Got it. Thanks, Pops.”

Neal strode into the backroom, glanced around the room at the mountains of junk piled nearly to the ceiling, and sighed. He was going to be here awhile. But with his father just outside and his son coming in after school every few days, he didn’t think he’d mind.


	7. The Games We Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sagesequoia prompted: Stiltskin Family Bonding Prompt: perhaps the Stiltskins play a board game/have a game night together?

_**September 2014** _

“King me!” Henry crowed.

Rumplestiltskin groaned and placed one black checker on top of the other.

“You suck at this,” Neal said mildly from behind him.

“Bloody ridiculous game,” the sorcerer muttered.

“You’re a chess master, how can you be so bad at checkers?”

“Chess requires deep thought, an intimate knowledge of strategies and the movements of the pieces. This - it’s just jumping about.”

“He’s not very good at Scrabble, either,” Belle offered from the couch where she was entertaining Gideon.

Rumplestiltskin turned and gave his wife a wounded look. “Thank you, dear.”

She shrugged and grinned. “You like to build the longest words - that doesn’t always mean they’re the highest-scoring.”

“I thought you were all about the strategy, Pops.”

“Scrabble should be a game of vocabulary, not strategy!”

Neal rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. When Henry had thoroughly trounced his grandfather, he went to the games shelf and started rifling through the boxes there. All Henry had had to do was mention that the Charmings held weekly game nights, and Rumple had gone to the toy store and purchased one of every game in stock. From Candyland to Cards Against Humanity , the Golds had it all, and Neal thought it was hilarious.

“There’s gotta be something in here Grandpa’s good at,” Henry said. Rumplestiltskin ground his teeth and put the board and checkers in their box with exaggerated care. Henry shifted boxes around in the cabinet. “Chess...boring. Twister...too many old people…”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Belle gasped.

“Got it!” Henry pulled out a box and showed it to the room, grinning triumphantly.

Neal laughed. “Yeah, that’s perfect for your grandpa.”

“ Guesstures ?” Rumplestiltskin looked confused.

“If anyone has a flair for the dramatic it’s you, Rumple,” Belle pointed out.

“But Dad and Grandpa can’t be on the same team,” Henry said.

“What? Why not?” Neal asked.

“Because you’re pretty dramatic too.”

“Am not!”

“Yeah, okay. I guess it was someone else’s idea to hang an engagement ring from a dreamcatcher and hang it from Mom’s rearview mirror.”

“I was trying to be romantic.”

“And that’s not dramatic how?”

“Fine, whatever. I’ll be on Belle and Gid’s team.” Neal flopped on the couch and crossed his arms, drawing a giggle from his baby brother.

“Okay with me,” Henry shrugged. He pulled the game out of its box and began to study the rules. “We’re going first.”

An hour later, Emma climbed the front steps of the pink Victorian and paused before knocking on the door. There were strange sounds coming from inside the house - well, in most other circumstances laughter wouldn’t necessarily be strange, but this was the _Golds_ ’ house. She knocked, but either no one heard or no one cared, so she pushed the door open and peered inside.

Belle, Gideon, Neal, and Henry were on the couch, Belle and Neal leaning on each other and breathless with laughter. Rumplestiltskin stood in front of them, his face red with either exertion or embarrassment, waving his arms and legs in what Emma thought might be some kind of weird dance.

“Karate!” Henry shouted, and the sorcerer lunged for a small box on the coffee table, plucking a white card out of the top.

“That was not karate,” Neal wheezed from beside his stepmother. “That was...I have no idea what that was.”

“Doesn’t matter. I guessed it, so we win!” Henry said.

“Is this exercise in humiliation quite finished?” Rumplestiltskin asked from the center of the room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Yeah, looks like Mom’s here,” Henry said, waving an arm at Emma. She waved and tried not to smirk as Rumplestiltskin flushed more deeply.

“You guys ready to go yet?” she asked Neal and Henry.

“Yeah, just about.” Neal sat up and straightened his hair and shirt. “All quiet on the Storybrooke front?”

“Not even a noise complaint today,” Emma said. She moved to stand beside Belle and smile at the baby. “I guess it’s a good thing you don’t have any close neighbors.”

“Thanks for having us, Pops, Belle.” Neal rose and pulled his father into an awkward one-armed hug.

“Of course,” Belle beamed.

“Bye, Grandpa.” Henry hugged his grandfather tightly and Emma was torn between being touched and amused - no matter how many times Henry hugged him, the sorcerer always looked as if he wasn’t quite sure what was happening or whether he was allowed to reciprocate. When Henry had hugged Belle and shaken Gideon’s chubby little hand, the three of them turned to leave.

“Miss Swan,” Rumplestiltksin said suddenly. Emma turned, raising her eyebrows, and saw that he was standing stiffly, hands clasped before him. “You are, of course, welcome to join us at any time.”

Emma blinked. “Oh. Uh. Thanks. I’ll...think about it.”

“Do. You are family, after all.”

“Right.” Emma shook her head slightly. “Uh...see ya around.” He nodded, and she turned again to walk away. Family. She grinned to herself. She wondered if he realized that he was getting soft.


	8. Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, is this an old prompt!
> 
> Anonymous on tumblr said: Stiltskin Family Bonding prompt: How do Neal and Henry react when they find that Rumplestiltskin **still** watches their practice of sword fighting after their camping trip?

_**September 2013** _

“Nice!” Neal cheered as Henry pretended to pull his sword from Neal’s prone body. “You’re coming along.”

“Really? You’re not just letting me win?” Henry smiled and stood back so that Neal could stand.

“Of course he’s not.” Father and son whirled to see Rumplestiltskin standing a few yards away, a small smile on his face. “He’s simply _that bad_ at swordplay.”

“I’ll have you know I held my own against pirates and Lost Boys for a long time,” Neal said indignantly.

“Impressive.”

“So what, I guess you’re a master swordsman,” grumbled Neal.

“Well, I did best both Jones and Prince Charming,” the sorcerer said humbly.

“You had magic on your side.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “Magic or not, your footwork is sloppy and your form needs work.”

“Y’know what? Fine.” Neal tossed his father the wooden sword and took Henry’s from him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

With a smirk Rumplestiltskin swept him a bow and settled into what Neal was forced to admit was a pretty intimidating _en garde_ stance. Shaking his head, Neal mirrored his father’s actions and waited. Silent seconds stretched between them, and Neal began to get antsy as his father’s smile widened into an almost taunting grin. Finally Neal lunged, and then stumbled as his father’s parry knocked him off balance.

“Your stance is too narrow,” Rumplestiltskin said, settling back into _en garde_. “Set your feet a little wider to give you better stability.”

Grumbling, Neal lunged again and, while he didn’t stumble this time, he wasn’t able to defend himself against the sorcerer’s _riposte_ and he felt the wooden sword tap his side.

“Withdraw sooner so you can defend yourself,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Speed and accuracy are the key.”

“Stop _teaching_ and start _fighting_ ,” Neal growled.

Shrugging, Rumplestiltskin attacked, and though Neal did his level best, he was soon on his back on the ground, the point of his father’s sword held at his throat. “That wasn’t half bad,” Rumplestiltskin said reassuringly.

“Oh shut up.” Neal knocked the point of the sword away and stood, brushing grass off his shirt.

“That was _awesome_ ,” Henry breathed. He was staring at his grandfather with huge, shining eyes, and Neal tried not to smile at the way Rumplestiltskin stood up a little straighter in the face of his grandson’s admiration.

“Care to go again?” Rumplestiltskin asked, and Neal almost refused, but then he recognized the timid, hopeful light buried deep in his father’s eyes.

“Yeah, why not?” he said instead, and watched as a genuine smile bloomed on Rumplestiltskin’s face. “And, uh...maybe talk me through some of that footwork you mentioned.”

When they finally parted ways, all three were tired and sore and dirty, but Neal figured it was worth it to see his father smile like that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so short because I know nothing about swordplay/fencing, I'm sorry, I'm a fraud I looked some stuff up online so if it makes no sense I'm sorry *ugly sobs*.


	9. This Is Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, Zappy mentioned Halloween as a possible prompt. Here it is!

_**October 2014** _

“There’s something really weird about Halloween here,” Emma said as she watched Henry put the final touches on his Incredible Hulk costume.

“That’s kind of the point of Halloween, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, but...out there,” Emma waved a hand, “little girls are putting on their Cinderella dresses and their Belle ballgowns and...those people are _here_. I picked my baby brother - Snow White’s son - up from Cinderella’s daycare today, where he was hanging out with her kid and Sleeping Beauty’s baby. I just...our lives are really weird, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Aren’t you ready yet?” Neal appeared in the doorway, excitement coming off of him in waves. “We gotta go, we’re gonna be late!”

Emma turned and raised an eyebrow, her eyes flicking over him once. “Tony Stark. Nice.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d just borrowed one of Regina’s suits you could have been my Pepper Potts, but way to ruin the theme.”

“Right, because I am _totally_ Pepper Potts material.”

Neal huffed. “Since you’re not dressing up there’s nothing left to wait for, right? We can go now?”

“What is your deal?”

“Belle promised me Papa would be at the party with her and Gideon and she gave me a little sneak peek of what Pops is wearing and I _have_ to document this for myself.”

“Grandpa Gold dressed up for Halloween?” Henry said incredulously. “As what?”

“I can’t tell you that, it’ll spoil the surprise, but we have to hurry because who knows how long he’ll stay and I need to see this you guys, come on!”

Emma and Henry rolled their eyes as Neal herded them to the car.

Granny’s was packed. Henry had declared himself too old for trick-or-treating, and as there were several teenagers in town who felt the same way, Granny had offered the diner as a gathering place. Henry, Grace, Ava, and Nicholas had spent the whole morning helping her decorate and set up refreshments, and now it seemed every person in Storybrooke over age twelve had shown up to celebrate.

At first Neal couldn’t find his father anywhere, but then he heard Belle’s voice coming from the hallway leading to the bathrooms. He stopped for a moment to listen when he heard his name.

“Rumple, we can’t go yet, we haven’t even seen Neal.”

“I can live with that disappointment,” his father replied. “I know you sent him a picture, so this outing was completely unnecessary.”

“Do you remember telling me you had a complicated relationship with Granny? And most people in the town?”

His father was silent.

“And I said they just needed to get to know you as I did? This is part of that.”

“No one is going to start liking me simply because I made a fool of myself at a Halloween party.”

Neal turned the corner then. “Hey, Pops! Happy Halloween.”

“Neal.” Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Well, go on. Have your laugh.”

The sorcerer was dressed in a long tunic and breeches under a billowing brown robe, and on his back in a baby sling was Gideon, dressed in similar clothes but with a green woolen hat on his head. Two long ears stuck out on either side of the hat.

Smothering a laugh, Neal tried to speak normally. “You look great. How many times has Belle watched those movies, now? A hundred?”

“I love _Star Wars_ ,” Belle defended herself.

“You love Han Solo,” Rumplestiltskin grumbled.

“What can I say? Apparently I'm drawn to cranky, self-proclaimed swindlers who try to be selfish but make the right choices in the end," Belle said.

The lines around Rumplestiltskin’s mouth softened and his cheeks reddened slightly.

“How’s it goin’, Yoda?” Neal asked Gideon. The baby smiled widely and waved his arms. “Come see your nephew.” With a relieved glance, Rumplestiltskin began to remove the sling, but Neal stopped him. “Oh, no you don’t. Henry’ll never forgive me if he doesn’t get to see you in costume. Come on.”

“Where - where is Henry?”

“Out there somewhere.” Neal gestured at the dining room and Rumplestiltskin blanched.

“I can’t…”

“Sure you can. Walk out there, head held high, find your grandson, say hello. Talk to David and Archie, avoid Jones, don’t get in an argument with Granny.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “I’ll try.”

“No,” Neal said. “Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.”

Belle giggled and Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes before following his son out into the diner. The sudden hush and shocked stares Rumplestiltskin had anticipated never quite happened - he supposed he looked so different in costume that most people did not at first realize who he was - but there were certainly a few uneasy glances and murmurs. Henry’s wide grin when he saw them made things a little better; he didn’t think he’d ever seen his grandson look so happy to see him.

“Whoa! That’s cool!” he said, flicking one of Gideon’s knitted ears. “Did Belle make that?”

“Belle can’t knit a thing to save her life,” Belle said, smiling. “That hat is your grandpa’s handiwork.”

“You knit?” Henry said incredulously.

“Of course he knits,” Neal replied. “He spins and weaves and knits and sews. Where do you think that old shawl of mine came from? Or any of my clothes when I was a kid?”

Henry was staring at him with wide eyes, and Rumplestiltskin felt his face reddening.

“I didn’t know that,” the boy said at last. “I mean, I knew about the spinning but I guess I didn’t realize...that’s pretty awesome.”

Neal nudged his father. “Maybe you could show him sometime. You still have that wheel in the shop, right?”

“Ah...yes…”

“Really? That could be cool.” Henry looked past his grandfather’s shoulder and grinned. “Hey, there’s Grace. I’ll be right back.”

“We won’t see him again for the rest of the night,” Neal said, watching as his son made a beeline for his friends. “You guys gonna head out?”

“Ah…” Rumplestiltskin glanced around and caught sight of his wife talking to Ruby, her eyes shining and her smile wide. “No. Belle doesn’t get much time to see her friends...at least not since Gideon was born. We can...we can stay a little longer.”

“And you’re not having as terrible a time as you thought you would,” Neal smiled. “Just admit it, Papa. You don’t hate this. Maybe one day you’ll even _like_ being part of a community.”

Rumplestiltskin grimaced, but did not snarl or snap when David appeared and struck up a conversation. Neal moved to one side, took out his phone, and snapped a few pictures, then went to find his fiancee. Since Henry was apparently going to be busy for the rest of the night, maybe _they_ could duck out early. For an hour or two, at least.


	10. Dreamcatcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> euphoriapotion prompted: THIS CHAPTER IS SO MUCH FUN I CAN'T  
> ALSO I NEED THIS FIC ABOUT NEAL PROPOSING TO EMMA

_**September 2014** _

Emma let out a long breath as she approached the yellow bug, rolling her head around on her shoulders. There hadn’t been any major catastrophes in Storybrooke in over a year, but the post of sheriff was still a demanding one. Petty crimes were still occasionally a problem, but mostly she had to hand out parking tickets and settle disagreements and disputes and...well, maybe she was imagining it, but Hook seemed to get himself brought in for drunk and disorderly a lot.

Well, David could take care of that little problem. He was on night shifts this week and Emma was looking forward to going home, putting her feet up, and wondering what the hell she’d gotten herself into with another baby on the way.

Not that she wasn’t happy about it. She was. Henry was absolutely over the moon, thrilled at the prospect of a little brother or sister. Neal - well, she was _pretty_ sure Neal was happy. He said he was happy, anyway, and she knew he wasn’t lying. But it was all so soon. They’d only officially been together a few months, and - well, they’d been careful, but apparently not careful enough.

That was all her fault. She just hadn’t been able to face the prospect of collecting a prescription for birth control from Sneezy the Dwarf. Some things were too weird, even for the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.

She slid into the driver’s seat and sighed again, letting her head fall back and her eyes slip closed for just a moment. She could do this. Of course, she had absolutely no idea how to be a mom. Henry didn’t count, really; he’d waltzed into her life practically grown and since then she’d just more or less been along for the ride. This kid was going to be hers from the very beginning and she and Neal were going to be completely responsible for it.

That was pretty terrifying.

Emma shook her head and opened her eyes and leaned forward to start the engine. She would be fine. She had her parents, and Neal and Regina, and... _Rumplestiltskin_ , of all people. (Emma was pretty sure that if he weren’t so deeply invested in maintaining his mysterious, dangerous Dark One image, he would have jumped for joy when that stupid gold thread wound its way across Henry’s tapestry.)

Something flashed in the corner of her eye, and she turned to look at the dreamcatcher hanging from her rearview mirror. The sun had caught on something hanging from the center of it and she frowned, leaning closer. Her heart stopped in her chest when she realized what it was.

It was a ring.

And not just any ring.

Her mother’s silver ring glinted at her from the center of the dreamcatcher, the clear green stone sparkling in the sunlight.

“Hey.”

Emma gasped and nearly jumped out of her skin, then whipped around to glare at Neal, who was smiling nervously at her from the back seat. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his appearance.

“Really? Your old gray hoodie? That’s what you’re going with?”

He shrugged. “Blast from the past, right?”

“Neal…”

He climbed over the seats and settled next to her, still wearing that irritatingly attractive grin of his, and Emma knew she was done for. She’d known they’d make it official eventually, but for some reason she didn’t think he’d be so... _romantic_ about it.

“I’m glad you kept the dreamcatcher,” he said suddenly, his eyes fixed on the the object in question. “I always wondered if you did. I hoped you had it with you, that it helped you keep some of the bad dreams away.” He glanced at her, his face serious. “I’m sorry, Em.”

“Don’t,” Emma said. “I know why you did it.” This was not how she’d expected this conversation to go, and now she was a little worried. What if the ring was not what she thought?

“Never again, okay?” he said. “From now on, whatever’s in front of us, whatever destiny has in store, we’ll face it together.” He reached out and plucked the ring from the center of the dreamcatcher and held it out to her. “Whaddaya say?”

Emma shook her head, her eyes swimming, and leaned forward, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. When she drew back, his eyes were glistening too and she snorted, taking the ring from his hand and slipping it onto her finger.

“Not bad, Cassidy,” she said, admiring the way the ring reflected the sunlight.

“Yeah, I practiced a little,” he said. He leaned back in the seat and grinned at her. “Your mom couldn’t get that ring off her finger fast enough when I told her what I was planning.”

Emma laughed. “I’ll bet. What about Dad?”

“He hugged me and told me he couldn’t wait to teach me how to sword-fight properly. I’m still working out whether or not that was a threat.”

“Henry’ll lose his mind.”

“Yeah. He’s been dropping really broad hints for a couple of months.”

“What’s your dad going to think?”

Neal snorted. “Are you kidding? He’s been just as bad as Henry, only less subtle.”

“Oh, no.”

“The shop’s been pretty unbearable the last couple of weeks.”

“Well, now they can get off your back,” Emma said, starting up the car. “Let’s go home and tell them, get it out of the way.”

Neal smiled. “Home. I like that. We made it, baby.”

Emma returned his grin. “Yeah. We did.”


	11. Spinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by ghostwriter107: Would love to see David's reaction to walking into the shop and finding Rumpel teaching Henry how to spin. I got the feeling that the heroes thought only they had something useful to pass to their grandson.

_**September 2014** _

David winced a little as the bell over the shop door gave a jaunty jingle. He didn’t have anything against Rumplestiltskin anymore, but his memories - cursed and otherwise - of this shop weren’t exactly pleasant. He avoided coming here when he could, but Henry was late getting home and Snow had been busy trying to convince Emma to at least _consider_ a royal wedding in Storybrooke, and David was more than happy to leave that conversation behind.

Henry had been spending more and more time at the shop lately, and David supposed that was only natural. Before Neverland, the boy had rarely seen his father and other grandparents, and they were, after all family. That wasn’t as hard to swallow for David as it was for Snow, but it was still strange to think of the Dark One as a part of his family. Henry was always reminding them about the Golds, pointing out when they’d been left off guest lists (or inviting them himself if time was running short), and they all felt a little guilty about it, but Belle and Rumplestiltskin were...odd, to say the least, and David would be lying if he said he wasn’t occasionally concerned about what the old warlock could be teaching him - magic, dealmaking, duplicity, and any number of questionable skills. No one could deny that Rumplestiltskin was one of the cleverest people in town, but...

When no one responded to the sound of the bell, David walked slowly around the shop and marveled at how neat and organized everything seemed. Before, there’d been no rhyme or reason that he could see, but since Belle’s arrival (and especially since Henry and Neal had begun working in the shop) it seemed Rumplestiltskin was being forced into a semblance of order. For years the Dark One had answered to no man or woman, but his tiny librarian wife and his son and grandson held him in thrall as if they had magic never before seen.

Where was everyone, anyway? Rumplestiltskin wasn’t usually this lax about customers in his shop. A low sound caught his ear and he walked closer to the doorway of the back room, frowning when he realized that he could hear voices. If they were here, why weren’t they coming out to the front?

He peeked around the edge of the curtain and his eyes widened. Henry was seated on the bench of a spinning wheel, his expression fierce with concentration as he slowly fed wool into the orifice. Rumplestiltskin stood just behind him, and as David watched, he put one hand on Henry’s shoulder and pressed down lightly.

“Relax your shoulders, m’boy,” he said quietly. “You’ll be in an awful lot of pain if you stay so tense.”

Henry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as he followed his grandfather's advice. A moment later, he swore under his breath when a large lump appeared in the yarn on the bobbin. “This is impossible,” he grumbled.

“You were doing well until you lost focus,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Everyone has a difficult time at first.”

“Did you?”

“Of course. This time, relax your right hand a bit and allow the wool to come out smoothly.”

Henry was silent for a little while, concentrating on the slide of wool and the whir of the wheel. Rumplestiltskin appeared to watch the wheel as well, his dark eyes serious and sad. “Can Dad spin?” Henry asked suddenly.

“Ah...no. Your father never learned.”

“Oh.”

Silence reigned in the back room once more, and David considering announcing his presence, but then Henry spoke up again. “Dad said you used to make his clothes.”

“Aye.”

“Could you make me something? Or maybe something for the new baby?”

David glanced up and saw that Rumplestiltskin was wrestling with some very strong emotions. “I - well, I do have something, but...”

“Wait, you made me something? Really?” Henry dropped the carding and jumped to his feet. “Can I see?”

Rumplestiltskin looked as if he didn’t quite know what to do. When Henry raised his eyebrows and asked again, the sorcerer shook his head and approached a trunk near the back of the shop. He pulled something out and approached his grandson, his face wary and uncertain. “You’re a bit old for such things, I’m afraid,” he said, holding out a small bundle of shimmering fabric.

Henry took it and shook it out, and David swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat. It was a blanket, white as snow and shining with golden threads, Henry’s name embroidered in black on one corner.

“ _Wow_ ,” Henry said. “Is that - did you spin the gold?”

“I did.”

“This is amazing.” Henry folded the blanket. “Thanks, Grandpa.”

Rumplestiltskin’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “You’re welcome.”

David stepped back from the curtain, aware that his hands were shaking slightly and his eyes were a little damp. As quietly as he could he strode back across the store and stood by the door; he took a deep breath, swiped at his eyes with one hand, and then opened the door and closed it forcefully. “Gold?” he called. “You here?”

Rumplestiltskin walked out from the back room and raised his eyebrows. “Shepherd,” he said dryly. “Here to rescue the young prince from the lair of the beast?”

David fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Just checking in. It’s almost dinner time and we haven’t seen Henry all day.”

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid the time did rather slip away from us.”

Henry appeared, the blanket tucked under one arm, and grinned at him. “Hi, Grandpa. Wait ‘til you see what Grandpa Gold’s been teaching me!”

“You’ll have to show me later,” David said. “We need to get moving or your grandmother’s going to send out a search party.”

“Okay.” Henry turned to Rumplestiltskin. “Thanks again, Gramps.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded, and Henry darted around David and out the door. David turned to follow him, but his conscience pricked at him and he turned back to the sorcerer, who was still watching him with slightly wary eyes. “You, uh...do you and Belle have plans this evening?”

Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows.

“Well, it’s just...we haven’t had you guys over for a...a, uh, family dinner yet, and…”

The Dark One’s eyebrows were now approaching his hairline.

"I mean...if you would like to come over for dinner, that would be…we’d love to have you.”

Rumplestiltskin smirked. “Does her Majesty know you’ve extended this invitation?”

“No,” David admitted.

“Ah. Then I most certainly decline”

“Some other time?” David could feel his face reddening under Rumplestiltskin’s unfathomable stare.

“Perhaps.”

David could feel the tips of his ears burning as he ducked out the door, but he knew he’d done the right thing. He only had to glance at the blanket under Henry’s arm, the golden threads glinting in the sunlight, to remember that.


	12. No Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Tumblr anon prompted: When he looks after the pawnshop alone, Neal has to deal with the customer who keeps saying bad things about Rumplestiltskin.

_**August 2014** _

Neal hated it when his father left the shop on rent day. For one thing, working in the shop wasn’t exactly his dream job, but until someone else in town decided it was safe to hire the son of the Dark One he was stuck there, earning a completely unreasonable wage considering that he mostly polished things and updated record books. The only reason it didn’t totally suck was that he spent most of the time talking to Rumplestiltskin. They had nearly three hundred years to catch up on, and Neal had realized that he couldn’t expect to understand or forgive his father without talking to him.

The best part of the day, of course, was in the late afternoons on Tuesdays and Thursdays when Henry would come in to sweep and dust. It was good in a weird kind of way, hanging out in dim, dusty shop with his family as if they were just regular guys running a family business. Sometimes he wished that were true - that they were plain old Mr. Gold, Neal, and Henry - and eventually Gid. Gold and Sons, Pawnbrokers. Or maybe they could rename the shop entirely in case the new baby was a girl.

Spinning Wheel Antiques, maybe. Or just Gold Antiques.

Anyway, it was rent day and Neal thought it was kind of hilarious that his father still took Dove and made the rounds, as if direct deposit wasn’t a thing. Rumplestiltskin could grumble about late payments and people trying to take advantage, but Neal knew there was a part of him - and not even a very small part - that loved the drama, the theatrics of rent day. The grim, shady landlord showing up and demanding wads of cash and threatening to toss delinquents out into the street. His dealmaking days were more or less at an end, but Rumplestiltskin was a showman, and he’d always had a dark, sinister sense of humor.

The bell on the front door jingled, and Neal groaned. Few people came in the shop anymore, and Neal didn’t like dealing with those who did. He didn’t have his father’s shrewd business sense or Henry’s guile, and he _really_ didn’t like the idea of making people pay for things that were technically theirs to begin with. He walked out from behind the curtain and saw a man he didn’t know bent over and peering through one of the glass cases.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

The man straightened, a mulish look on his face. “Yes. I’ve come for my sword.”

“Uh.” Neal glanced at an umbrella stand that was full of swords. “Could you be a little more specific?”

“That one.” The man pointed at a sword with a gold hilt, studded with rubies and emeralds. Neal pulled it out of the stand and held it up, and the man drew a deep breath.     “That’s it,” he said. “I thought it was lost forever.” He reached for the sword, but Neal drew back, raising his eyebrows.

“That’ll be fifteen hundred,” he said, his grip tightening slightly when the man’s eyes flashed.

“Fifteen hundred! For my own sword!” the man exclaimed.

“For one thing, I don’t know for sure that it’s yours,” Neal said.

“You doubt my word?” the man said, drawing himself up to his full height.

“Well...yeah. I kind of have to. I mean it’s not like there are serial numbers on these things, and I doubt you have any proof of ownership.”

“A man of honor would not require any of those things.”

Ah. A prince, or a nobleman at least. Neal thought he’d noticed a certain...prickishness about the guy. “Well, what can I say? I’m just a lowly peasant. Honor was never really in my budget.” He shifted his grip on the sword, holding it not quite at _en garde_ , and studied it carefully. “This is a pretty expensive sword to just...give up. What’d you get in exchange?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, it didn’t just show up on its own. You had to have made a deal with it. So what’d you get? Power? Riches?” He looked the other man up and down and smirked. “Good looks?”

The prince/nobleman/jerk turned red. “That is none of your business.”

“Okay, no problem. Doesn’t matter anyway, the price is the same. Fifteen hundred.”

“You’re just like your father, aren’t you?” the man sneered. “I should have known not to expect any better.”

“Any better than...what?”

“We can all see through him now,” the man said, leaning over the glass case. “Back in our world he dressed himself up in fine silks and leathers and flourished his magic and made us all fear him, but we all know who he is: a peasant, with no more claims to greatness than a common beggar. A _coward_ who hides behind his stolen magic and his powerful friends.”

Neal clenched his jaw, willing himself to stay calm. There were an awful lot of expensive things in here, and it wouldn’t do to break them.

“He’d better pray his magic never forsakes him,” the man continued. “I’d like nothing better than to cut him back down to size.”

Of course, Rumplestiltskin could always magically repair whatever ended up broken.

“Did you seriously threaten the Dark One in front of his son?” Neal asked. “While I’m _holding a sword_?”

“As if you would know what to do with a fine weapon like that,” the man scoffed. “Gutter rats like you barely know which end of the sword is which.”

“I know a few things,” Neal said. He grasped the hilt of the sword and reached out, carefully placing the tip on the man’s chest, over his heart. “The pointy end goes in the other guy, right?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Are you _threatening_ me?”

“No,” Neal said. “I’m _challenging_ you.”

“How dare you…”

“Me?” Neal scoffed. “You’re in my father’s shop, insulting both of us, demanding something for free. And I’m the jerk in this situation?”

The man opened his mouth to reply, but froze, his eyes widening in something like terror. Neal didn’t have to look back to know that his father must have returned.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Rumplestiltskin’s voice was quiet and calm, but Neal felt goosebumps crawl over his skin. “A dissatisfied customer?”

“I - I only want what is mine,” the man said.

“That’s all anyone ever wants,” Rumplestiltskin said, approaching the counter. “Unfortunately, our definitions of what is yours appear to differ.” He placed his hand on Neal’s arm and pressed gently, and Neal let the sword fall to his side. “This sword, for example. You sold it to me, and it is therefore mine. The fact that you regret that does not negate the transaction.” Rumplestiltskin clasped his hands before him and raised one eyebrow, smirking. “Unless you have two thousand dollars to hand, I’m afraid your sword will remain in my possession.”

“He said fifteen hundred!”

“I tend to charge more when death threats are involved.”

The man wilted a bit. “I can - return tomorrow. With the money.”

“We look forward to it.” Rumplestiltskin grinned. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

The man huffed and walked away, slamming the door as he went. Neal took a deep breath and replaced the sword in the umbrella stand.

“Well, that was fun. I almost expected him to slither out of here.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “There was no reason to dirty my floors.”

“You didn’t always _need_ a reason.” Neal studied his father. “You really do...have things under control, don’t you? The curse, I mean. You’re more...you than you used to be.”

“I’ve lived with this curse for three hundred years, son,” Rumplestiltskin said wearily as he pulled out a thick ledger.

“Yeah.” Neal fidgeted with a pen. “If you could get rid of it, though...would you?”

Rumplestiltskin was quiet for a few minutes, and Neal thought he’d gone too far, but then the sorcerer sighed and shook his head. “Once upon a time I’d have said no. I’m not a brave man, and the thought of facing this world without magic frightens me, but…” He looked up at Neal, his eyes wide and glistening. “But I see the beginnings of gray in your hair. Henry and Gideon grow more each day, and Belle’s getting laugh lines around her mouth. And I…” he waved a hand up and down his own body. “I stay the same.” Rumplestiltskin leaned against the glass case and stared at the ledger without appearing to see it. “Every day I grow closer to losing all of you and...and that’s more terrifying than anything I can imagine. To be truly alone, to lose all that I hold dear. I don’t want that.”

“Well, there’s got to be some way, Papa,” Neal said. “What about True Love’s Kiss?”

“We’ve tried,” Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Over and over, we’ve tried. But the Curse - it’s grown stronger, more resilient. It weakens a little, and then it’s back, as strong as ever. Belle is at her wits’ end.”

Neal thought of the fairies, but dismissed that idea immediately. The last time he’d gone to the fairies for help, it hadn’t gone so well.

“We’ll think of something,” Neal said. “We have time, after all. There’s no rush.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled slightly and then looked away, his eyes dark and sad. “Aye. No rush.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why. Why did that get angsty at the end. What is wrong with me.


	13. When You Wish Upon a Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess prompted a trip to the zoo or to Disneyland
> 
> Part 1 of the Stiltskin Boys' trip to Disney World.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been to Disneyland so I sent the guys to Disney World. I don't know if there's a difference but I didn't want to make any huge mistakes.

_**June 2014** _

The press of people around them was nearly suffocating, and Rumplestiltskin tried to hold perfectly still and ignore his son’s worried looks. He’d never been fond of confined spaces, and that discomfort had only intensified since the events of the previous year, but this was a short journey and he could endure almost anything for his boys. The ferry had held even less appeal for him than the monorail, so here they were. Henry stood a few feet away, his face practically flattened against the window, and Rumplestiltskin smiled in spite of his discomfort.

Leaving Gideon and Belle for even a day had seemed unthinkable, let alone for the entirety of this vacation, but Belle had been adamant.

“Henry needs to spend time with you and his father,” she’d said. “He’ll be grown before you know it! It’s only four days, and Gideon and I will be waiting here for you when you get back.”

Rumplestiltskin hated how very much he needed that reassurance, even as he appreciated that Belle understood his fears. Nightmares about losing the two of them had plagued him for days after Gideon’s birth - sometimes Belle announced that he was unfit as husband and father and disappeared, and other times Gideon was simply gone and Belle didn’t remember they’d ever had a son. Worst of all were the dreams in which he seemed to wake up cold and alone in a great empty bed with no sign of his family anywhere.

“We’re almost there!” Henry reported over his shoulder. “I can see the castle!”

“Great, keep us updated,” Neal said, sidling a little closer to his father. “You doing okay, Papa?”

“Fine,” Rumplestiltskin said, shifting his weight to his good foot.

“It’s just - it’s been awhile since you had to use that thing. From what I hear, the park’s pretty big.”

Rumplestiltskin looked down at the gold-handled cane and tried to speak pleasantly. “I’ve walked miles with this cane.”

“Well, yeah, I know, but…”

_Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching our station at the entrance to Main Street, USA, gateway to the six lands of the Magic Kingdom. Smoking is not permitted at the Magic Kingdom, except in designated areas. Please consult your guide map or ask a cast member for locations. If you’re standing, please hold onto the handrails and stay clear of the doors until the monorail stops completely and the doors open. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Magic Kingdom monorail station._

“We’re here!” Henry turned away from the window.

_Ladies and gentlemen, please collect your belongings, watch your head and step, and take small children by the hand. We hope you enjoy your day at the Magic Kingdom!_

“Need me to hold your hand?” Neal teased Henry, and Henry frowned.

“He said _small_ children, Dad,” the boy pointed out.

“Yeah, I know.” There was a flicker of something in Neal’s face, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

They lumbered out of the monorail with the rest of the crowd and headed for the elevator, Henry practically vibrating with energy. As they were walking through the large stone archways, however, Henry stopped and looked up at his grandfather.

“Uh...Grandpa? They have...y’know...they have, like, wheelchairs and scooters and stuff.”

“Do they?”

“Yeah.” Henry shifted his weight. “I thought maybe you…”

“I’ll be fine,” Rumplestiltskin said tersely.

“But…”

“Hey, look, maps,” Neal said quickly. He grabbed one and shook it open. “How do we want to do this?”

“Oh, I already planned it all out,” Henry said.

“You did, huh?”

“Yup. I wanna see _everything_ , so I figured we should have a plan. I call it Operation Sidewinder. We kind of zig zag around.”

“Ok. So where to first?”

“This way!”

* * *

Henry was quiet as they left Cinderella Castle, and he grew quieter still as they made their way around FantasyLand. Neal kept one anxious eye on him, unsure what had upset him, and another on his father, who was doing his best to hide his grimaces. No matter what Rumplestiltskin said, it had been a long time since he’d walked without magic, and none of this could be good for his ankle. He was trying to figure out how he could salvage what was turning out to be a total disaster of a trip when Henry suddenly stopped.

“The Mad Tea Party!” he said. “I’ve always wanted to ride this one!”

Neal looked doubtfully at the wildly spinning teacups. “I dunno, you’ve had a lot of cotton candy.”

“Come on, Dad, _please?_ It’s one of the most famous rides in the park!”

Neal faltered when Henry stared at him, his eyes wide and beseeching. “Yeah, sure. But if you puke everywhere I’m taking pictures.”

Henry dashed away to stand in line while Neal and Rumplestiltskin followed more slowly.

“It’s good to see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“Huh?”

“How many concessions did you wheedle out of me with a look like that?”

Neal smirked. “I only used my powers for good.”

“For a good time, maybe.” Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “He’s so like you.”

“Yeah, he’s trouble.”

“You were never trouble, B - Neal. At least, you never meant to be.”

Neal didn’t quite know what to say to that, so he nodded at the line. “Are you gonna ride that thing?”

“No, I’ll wait for the two of you.” Rumplestiltskin grinned. “One of us has to be able to walk straight.”

Grumbling, Neal joined his son in line. The teacups spun fast and long, and Henry did look a little green around the gills, but at least he didn’t actually throw up. The kid seemed to be in a better mood, and they made their way past the kiddie area, ate lunch at Be Our Guest, and were walking past Prince Charming’s carousel (Henry had snickered a little at that) when he suddenly stopped dead in the middle of the street. Rumplestiltskin nearly knocked him over, and Neal was quick to grab his father’s arm to keep from falling down.

“What is it, Henry?”

“Nothing,” Henry said quickly. “Sorry. Let’s...go the other way.”

Neal frowned and looked at his father, only to see that Rumplestiltskin had frozen too, his face unreadable. “Papa?”

“Come on, Grandpa, let’s just go,” Henry said grabbing his grandfather’s arm and pulling slightly.

Neal followed his father’s gaze and felt his heart drop.

Of course.

“Peter Pan’s Flight.”

“Aye. Let’s go,” Rumplestiltskin said hoarsely, turning to follow his grandson.

They walked in silence toward the Princess Fairytale Hall, and only once they were standing in line did Henry speak up again.

“Sorry. I forgot about that one.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” Rumplestiltskin told him, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“This place isn’t really what I thought it would be,” Henry said after a second’s thought. “I should have known better, I guess, but I thought...I thought it would be more real. I mean,” and he looked up at his grandfather, “you’re not even here. At all. And that’s crazy because none of this would ever have happened without you. My mom wouldn’t be here. _I_ wouldn’t be here.”

Rumplestiltskin stared open-mouthed at his grandson for a moment, and Neal blinked back tears. He’d thought of that himself over the last couple of years - that as terrifying as his youth had been, as lonely and desperate as he’d felt, the slightest change and he would never have met Emma, and she’d never have had Henry. He hated that he had to acknowledge that anything good had come of his father taking the Dark One’s curse, but the proof was standing in front him. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, since it seemed that his father’s brain had momentarily short-circuited.

“Yeah, they got pretty much everything wrong, but we can still have fun,” he said. “Like, let’s go see the princesses and then we can tease your mom about petitioning for them to add a Princess Emma character. A princess in jeans and a red leather jacket.”

Henry grinned. “She would hate that.”

“We could take pictures of the princesses and then Photoshop their real-life heads on them.”

“Yeah! And we could get pictures of all the Caribbean pirates and Photoshop Hook’s head onto all of them!”

“Now you’re talkin’!” Neal ruffled Henry’s hair. “Whaddaya say, Pops? Ready for some good old-fashioned Disney fun?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “Yes, I do believe I am, though I have one question.”

“What’s up?”

“What exactly is Photoshop?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, I am officially OUT of prompts for this 'verse! I plan to have a second part of the Disney World trip, but other than that I got nothin'. Please, please give me some new ideas!


End file.
